221Birthday
by agentsherlson
Summary: Sherlock's celebrating his 21st birthday and Mycroft takes no pity in inviting whoever he wishes. When an uninvited guest shows up he gets caught up and doesn't know what to do.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Sherlock BBC. Dam, that sucks.

**Genres: **Romance, drama

**Rating:** T

**Pairing: **Sherlock/John. Obviously.

**Summary: **Sherlock's celebrating his 21st birthday and Mycroft takes no pity in inviting whoever he wishes. When an uninvited guest shows up he gets caught up and doesn't know what to do.

**Warnings: **Somewhat AU. This chapter isn't complete yet. None so far. Oh, just that this is my first story. :D

**A/N:** Should I continue this? I have just got the general gist of the story but it would be nice if you could review it so I know if I should submit the rest of the chapter. If it shouldn't be allowed to continue, then just say the word. I hope you like it :D

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><p><strong>221Birthday<strong>

He heaved a sigh as he walked through the door, removed his jacket and dropped his keys and carry bag on the table. Turning on the kettle was his first thought as he trudged into the kitchen and craved the sweetness of his newly bought box of earl grey. He needed to kick back and have a nice cuppa after witnessing the awkward conversation at work today - and basically every other day. Just thinking about it made him shiver. Sherlock spouting out insults at Molly whenever she makes an effort is not something he enjoys watching. At first sight Molly may seem like a shy and accepting girl but to endure the copious amounts of insults thrown at her by Sherlock every time they were in the same room really was a feat to be proud of. Surely Sherlock would have some pity on her by now. Perhaps he isn't as amazing as she first thought. Ah, the marvels of young love, thought Mike. Mike jumped out of his seat at the sound of someone knocking at his door. As if to drag him away from his thoughts, a dull thumping noise came from his front door. He glanced at the clock, remembering he had started to come home at about midnight;Who would be visiting him at this hour?

Cautiously, he tiptoed out to his front door, looked through his peep whole and audibly gasped. He fumbled with the door handle for a few seconds before tearing the door open. He didn't know whether to feel excited or surprised. On his doorstep stood someone Mike had never expected to see again, the sheepish expression of his visitor met with his bewilderment.

"Watson? John Watson?"

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><p>"Mycroft, go away!" shouted Sherlock.<p>

His phoned beeped again. With a frustrated growl, he carefully placed the (much more important) beaker of chemicals onto the table and grabbed his phone out of his pocket.

_Sherlock, ple_ase _don't shout at nothing. You know how it worries me._ _– MH_

Sherlock made no effort to suppress the scoff that resulted in reading Mycroft's comment.

_You must be at mummy's house tomorrow by 6pm – MH_

_And don't be late – MH _

Sherlock tapped in a quick reply: _No, no and no. I'm not going. – SH _

_Mummy would be very dis_appointed – MH

Sherlock knew Mycroft would fight for however long it took until he got Sherlock's co-operation. Idiot. This whole idea was stupid and he was starting to fear for Mycroft's sanity. Inviting people over for a social gathering on his 21st birthday? His resolve was slipping down further and further by the second and no one would be there to catch him when he finally loses it completely.

There was always his grandmother's room - an empty, unused room where Sherlock hid for the entirety of Mycroft's 21st, texting Lestrade and solving a total of 7 uninteresting cases.

_Fine. You owe me – SH_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Still don't.. but perhaps in my mind.

**Genres: **Romance, drama

**Rating:** T

**Pairing: **Sherlock/John. Obviously.

**Summary: **Sherlock's celebrating his 21st birthday and Mycroft takes no pity in inviting whoever he wishes. When an uninvited guest shows up he gets caught up and doesn't know what to do.

**Warnings: **Somewhat AU. May have mistakes in it? My first story.

**A/N:** Yay! Thank you to those people who have alerted/reviewed/read my story! I can't express my happiness at the fact that people actually read this. Okay, I'll shut up now. But thanks. a lot. Um. Constructive criticism anyone? Or any review should be fine. and… *nervous twitch* sorry for taking so long to update. I have been busy lately, but that shouldn't be an excuse..? ENJOY :DD

John hesitated before greeting his old flatmate. "Mike,"

While Mike's brain was catching up to his sight, there were small smiles tugging at both of their lips before they burst into warm laughter. They clapped each other on the back and Mike invited John back into his flat.

He had almost forgotten about his tea but John and tea practically belonged together, so he made him a cup.

"So what are you doing now, Mike?" asked John.

"Ah, you know. Just the usual. Helping out at Bart's, that kind of thing."

Bringing back the tea mugs into the room, they sat and chatted about nothing in particular through most of the night. Mike still had so many questions, so many things he wanted to know about his old mate and the things he had done. He could still clearly remember the day John had first mentioned joining the army. His father and nearly all his mates had gone and it was obvious John was getting bored of the tedious hours to be endured when in St. Barts.

On the day before his departure when he had sobered up and for the first time realising the extent of his decision, said: "I hope I won't have to see it. The pain – death. Mike, I promise you that every good man's life will be spared."

"It must have been so hard. Seeing all those people, seeing… everything."

Immediately his eyes shot up - there was a shift in the way John looked; a change in the intensity of the deep blue gaze. His breathing was becoming shallower as he wet his lips.

"I don't know, Mike. I just don't know." whispered John. His voice was dropped to a whisper and although his face remained calm, his eyes were restless. His arms shook and his mouth moved but no words came out. His eyes were jerky and looked at places Mike knew there was nothing to see. When he stared at a particular spot for more than a few seconds, Mike turned around and saw nothing but a blank white wall. He was looking somewhere further into the distance.

Panicking, Mike reached across and shook John's shoulders. "John! John, come back!"

Mike watched as John took in his surroundings, seeing the battlefields of Afghanistan instead of sitting in his apartment talking to his friend. He turned around, grabbed the television remote from his coffee table and pressed 'on'. In a few moments, John had fallen asleep listening to the orchestra.

It only took one word and John would be back in his life again, living back in the good old days of university life. The late nights, the studying – ugh, and it was all coming back to him in one massive hit.

Getting up from the chair, Mike shuffled into the next room and picked up the mail from the floor. What he found was typical: bills. However, as he flicked through the envelopes, he found something interesting.

The envelope shone a beautiful gold and the words 'Mike Stamford' were printed in a neat scrawl on the front. Flipping to the back, he found no seal but knew who it was from – there was only one person he knew who was rich enough and who could be bothered enough to send one of these to most unoccupied mailboxes in London.

Smiling, he tossed the bills back onto the floor and took the envelope back into the living room. He picked up John's mug, placed down the envelope and went to refill his mug.


End file.
